


Tempest of Oblivion

by thepinupchemist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Gabriel, Alpha Sam, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Animals, Babies, Baby Werewolves, Childbirth, Dildos, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forest Sex, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Castiel, Omega Verse, Outdoor Sex, Pack, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Post Mpreg, Self-Lubrication, Sex Toys, Shifter Castiel, Shifter Dean, Smut, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Switching, Werewolves, Wolf Pack, Wolves, and also keep in mind that they are half wild animals so there is definitely some blood, basically the warning tags are for cas's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the responsibility of the alpha to take care of their pack. On a hunt, Dean finds an omega in pain in his packlands. His territory. He could toss the omega out of his land. Instead, he takes Castiel in. Once Castiel is pack, Dean will do anything for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempest of Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> Just fyi as far as triggery stuff Cas comes from a cult-like pack that considers themselves "traditional" and is incredibly fucked up.

Banner by [assbutt-i-might-be](http://assbutt-i-might-be.tumblr.com/)

**Soundtrack: Down by the River – Milky Chance**

**_Tempest of Oblivion_ **

 

_Down by the river_

_I was drawn by your grace_

_Into tempest of oblivion_

_And to the lovers-place_

The stag isn’t afraid. He doesn’t sense Dean crouched in his wolf body behind the trees, watching silently as the deer stops for a drink at the creek that cuts through the heart of the woods. This is Dean’s favorite part, even better than the warm splash of blood that fills his mouth when he pounces on his prey. He likes the quiet before the kill, the sensation of adrenaline and peace filling him from his muzzle to his paws.

But just as Dean lifts his massive paw to crash through the brush, the scent of the stag vanishes, corrupted by blood and fear and _omega._ It isn’t one of Dean’s omegas. He would know the scent of each of his pack mates even if it was days old and stale, saturated with other smells, but still his. This scent is different. It’s sweeter than those of the omegas in his clan despite the rawness of the blood and anxiety clouding the aroma.

Dean sets his paw back down and a twig snaps between his toes. The stag’s head shoots up and he meets Dean’s eyes. Like lightning, the deer runs. Dean should be disappointed that he lost his first kill of the night. It’s his duty as pack alpha to feed his wolves.

Something, however, stirs in his gut and tells him that this smell is important. He snuffles against the dirt, circling until he picks up the trail of the foreign omega. Are they lost? Did they wander from the borderlands into Dean’s territory? He starts to run along the track of the scent, barreling through the vegetation.

In a clearing, curled up in the gnarled roots at the base of an enormous oak, he finds the omega. He’s a large wolf, his black fur matted and tangled with several days’ worth of sweat and dirt. He’s whimpering from pain, and it doesn’t take long to puzzle out why.

This omega is giving birth in Dean’s woods. Dean leaps forward and sticks his nose into the omega’s neck. He’s scared. Scared of what’s happening but also scared of Dean.

Dean knows almost nothing about handling the birthing of pups. Typically as alpha he is present if requested as often he is, but this is an omega from someplace else, maybe someplace further than Dean has ever been before. But just because this omega isn’t one of Dean’s own doesn’t mean that he should be left to the elements. There are predators in these woods, feral, lone wolves and bears and _dragons_. It is Dean’s duty to protect the innocent, and if this omega isn’t that, then he doesn’t know who is.

With a gentle lick to the omega’s cheek to reassure him, Dean says, “It’ll be all right. I’ll call for help.” He sits back on his haunches, breathes in deep, and howls.

Dean howls for his brother and his brother’s mate. Sam is pack healer and his presence will be necessary, but Jessica is the one with the true knowledge of childbirth. In addition to birthing three of her own pups, Jessica has served as midwife for the entire pack for a decade now. Dean howls again. He knows they’ll be here soon since he raised the alarm, but his scent may be too faint to follow.

“I’m calling my healer,” Dean explains. The clarification doesn’t appear to reassure the terrified omega. His breathing is ragged, his body rigid. At least Dean knows enough that he has to somehow calm this omega. He says, “I’m Dean. I am alpha of these woods. I’ll make sure you get the help you need. The healer is my brother and his mate has helped birth many pups. Sometimes I am asked to attend the births. You have to relax. Your pup might not come right if you’re this tense.”

The omega narrows his eyes. Distrust. Even if Dean could not see the distrust in this wolf's face, would smell it from paces away. Before Dean tries to go on, to soothe, or the omega can speak, a massive brown wolf and his slender-but-sturdy cream-colored companion burst through the trees, sending leaves and pollen flying around them. The sun lights the debris like halos. Few times has Dean been more grateful to see Sam and Jess. Together, they heal for the pack. They know the flora and fauna of the woods better than the backs of their own paws. Books upon books line the walls of their tent back at the settlement. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asks.

Dean tilts his head behind him and says, "I found him. He needs help. His pup is coming."

Jess head-butts Dean aside. She and Sam leap to their work without another word to or from Dean. It's how they are when they slip into their element. Dean watches Jess lick the omega, who is soothed by the presence of another omega, Dean thinks, though he seems equally confused by the presence of two alphas. Dean watches from a pace away, standing guard as Jess talks to the quivering wolf at the base of the tree.

“Dean,” Jess says, “I need you to find some things for me. We must help Castiel relax.”

“Castiel?”

“The omega, Dean,” says Jess, impatient. She rattles off a list and Dean jumps to action. Dean's parents at least taught him enough about the forest that he knows where to look for Jess's healing herbs, breaking branches from bushes with his teeth and clawing bark from ancient trees.

When Dean returns, Castiel’s pup is already coming.

“Thank you,” Sam says tersely, now in his human form for simplicity’s sake. He takes the collection of plant life from Dean and mashes them up with his big hands into a lumpy, brownish paste. Sam smears the paste over Castiel’s muzzle and instructs him to lick what remains on his fingers.

Dean finds that though this omega is not a member of his pack he still feels the same twist of anxiety and dread as the pup begins to emerge, that need to protect and comfort. Perhaps it is alpha instinct. Whatever it is, everyone can smell it, but instead of making Castiel afraid, the black wolf melts back into the tree roots and obeys each of Jess’s commands. Or maybe that’s the herbs and not Dean’s smell. The alpha part of him wants so badly for his vigilant scent to be a balm to this omega, this Castiel.

The pup is a girl with fur as black as her father’s. Dean pads closer now and looks on as Castiel licks her clean. She’s tiny, and like any new member of his pack he feels proud and protective.

“You birthed your pup on our pack land,” Dean says slowly, “Our pack would welcome you and your pup. Unless there is a pack you need to go home to?"

“I don’t have a pack, Alpha,” Castiel says. Dean likes the sound of the omega’s voice, deeper than he expected but pleasant in that timbre. With smell and voice combined this omega makes a tempting treat. Dean shouldn't think like that. He doesn't think like that. Not usually. Something about this black wolf makes him light in the head, like he's drunk too much ale from the human cities.

“We’ll be your pack,” Dean offers again. While Castiel certainly looks like a wolf that could hold his own, he is still weakened from giving birth and braving the wilds own his own with a brand-spanking-new pup would be downright stupid. Surely, Castiel must know this.

“But,” Castiel says, “I’m lone.”

“You don’t have to be,” Dean replies, “Our settlement isn’t far.”

“Dean,” Sam interrupts, “We should still bring back meat for the rest of the pack. Would you like me to take care of the hunt?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, “Thanks, Sammy.” Sam nods, crouches down in the dirt, and shifts back into his enormous wolf body. He gives Jess a lick to the face before he bounds off to where the deer like to hide. Leaves and branches crunch behind him as he goes.

As Sam leaves, Castiel says, “Yes. I will be pack. But could we…could we wait for the pack to have me until after I’ve healed? Please, Alpha. I promise everyone can mate me after that.”

Dean cocks his head and exchanges a look with Jess. He says, “Uh. That’s not really how we work.”

Castiel lowers his eyes and says, “All right,” resignedly, as if he thinks Dean is seriously going to let a bunch of alphas and betas line up and fuck a terrified omega that just pushed out a pup.

“No, I mean, we don’t do that kind of thing here?” Dean says, uncertain. He’s heard of packs sharing omegas in days far gone by, but not of packs doing so now. It would be shameful to hurt an omega so, just as it would be shameful to hurt any part of the pack. He goes on, “We never hurt anyone that’s pack.” In general, the Winchester pack doesn't hurt anyone. The extent of blood shed by Dean's jaws is the animals he hunts for food and pelts and the seldom-occurring intruder on his territory that threatens his family.

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean and Jess. He doesn't address Dean this time, but Jess. Castiel looks her over, his nose twitching, and asks, “They don’t share you? But you smell like a mother.”

“I’ve had three pups with Sam,” Jess says, “He’s my mate. My only mate.” Dean can smell her unease, though she's trying her best to mask it. They've all heard tales of old about omegas being less-than the rest of their packs, but Dean never thought it to be true. He thought the tales cautionary. Now it seems he was mistaken.

“Oh. Alpha lets you do that?”

“Who, Dean? He’d never hurt any of us,” Jess says. She glances back at Dean, “I never would have left my old pack to mate Sam if I thought I’d be in danger. Come, we'll bring you to our settlement. You can decide whether or not you want to be pack later. For now you must rest, and that would be done best with shelter and a nest. It may be easiest if you shifted and rode on Dean’s back.”

“What about my pup?” Castiel asks. He draws her in against his fur. The fear-scent shifts to protective omega, a far more pungent scent. 

“I could carry her, or Dean could,” Jess says.

“Alpha, would it be all right for Jess to carry my pup?” Castiel says.

“Yeah, dude, that’s fine,” Dean says. The alpha in him is a little wounded at knowing that he isn't trusted with a pup, but he knows better than to fight this. Pack politics over the course of his reign as alpha have taught him what battles are worth taking on. Watching his father choose battles before him both poorly and wisely makes him a smarter alpha, or so he would like to believe.

At Dean's consent for Jess to take the tiny black pup, Castiel shifts. He groans at the pop of bones back into place, but when he is human, he is just as beautiful as his wolf. His hair is black as his fur and tangled too, tanned skin smeared with blood and filth. His eyes are blue as lightning. Dean lies down for the simplest access, and Jess helps Castiel onto his back. Castiel is shaking, and still smells afraid, but he listens when Dean tells him to grab some fur and hang on.

Jess plucks the pup up in her teeth, and they start back through the thicket of trees toward the settlement.

**X**

Dean brings Castiel and the pup to his tent. It’s the biggest tent in the settlement that doesn’t belong to a family, and as alpha he is entitled to a fair amount of coziness. Despite his protests, his pack members bring him gifts every time he settles a dispute or returns from a hunt successful or all of the skills alphas are meant to have in any case. In tandem with Jess, Dean helps Castiel slide down off of his back and onto the nest of pelts in the center of the tent. Jess sets the pup beside Castiel. The pup remains in wolf form, and most likely will for the next couple of weeks, but she’ll know her daddy no matter the body he wears.

“Alpha?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, you can just call me Dean,” he says. With a sigh Dean shifts down to human. He spares Castiel some awkwardness – though on any other day Dean would be more than happy to lounge around naked in his tent, today he pulls on soft doeskin leggings and a woven tunic, a simpler garment without the fine embroidery done by one of his pack. It seems in poor taste to make himself grandiose in this moment.

“I think I will call you Alpha,” Castiel says, “It is the appropriate way to address you. You deserve respect.”

“Uh…okay, I guess,” Dean says, “I mean, yeah, but the rest of the pack just calls me Dean. What do you need?”

“I was wondering if it might be permissible for me to sleep, Alpha.”

Dean scratches the back of his neck and says, “You may need a bath first. You're hurt. I can get some hot water and some soap for you, if you want. I'll have another omega bathe you if that would put you at ease. If Jess is busy I could get Charlie or Kevin, or maybe Jo. Possibly Jo. I think she’ll be nice to you given the circumstances. She’s kind of a pain in the ass otherwise.” The joke falls flat, but Castiel consents to an omega helping him scrub the dirt and blood from his skin.

When Dean seeks out the omegas of his pack to ask for this favor, Charlie volunteers. Dean vacates the tent in an effort to be sensitive, though instinct tells him to march his ass right back inside and watch over Cas and the pup like a hawk. He’s afraid this feeling is more than pack. He’s afraid this feeling is _mate_. Castiel smells so nice and Dean wants so much to cocoon this omega in pelts and furs and make certain that he’s warm and well-fed and cared for. He wants to hold the pup close and lick her clean, wants to keep both of them cozy and protected when night falls and creatures come out to play.

“Jeez, Dean, you okay?”

Dean jumps a mile in the air. Charlie emerges from his tent. Castiel’s scent covers her skin and it takes a whole hell of a lot for Dean not to stick his nose against her. She cocks a brow at him when he scents the air in any case, and Dean rubs his temples. He whispers, “I think that omega is my mate.”

“What, seriously?”

Dean nods.

“Well, crap.”

“He’s fucking traumatized. He thinks if we make him pack that we’re like, going to take turns on him.”

Charlie goes pale. She says, “That’s a thing still?”

“I didn’t think so,” Dean says, “I haven’t heard of that shit actually happening, but the guy is terrified. I know you could smell it.”

Charlie nods. She pets a hand over Dean's hair. In another instance it might be considered mate behavior for Charlie to do so, but to Dean she will always be the sister he grew up alongside that doesn't know when it is appropriate to say things and when it is better to be quiet. He wouldn't have her any other way. Besides...Charlie doesn't like gentleman wolves. She likes lady ones. 

“I’m going to try to speak to him. I might end up sleeping by the fire pit, though. He needs my nest more than I do. Not that I’d be staying in the nest if I stayed in the tent.”

Charlie pats Dean’s cheek and says, “You’re a good alpha, Dean.”

“I sure hope so,” he mutters, and pushes aside the tent flap. Castiel has returned to his wolf form, his pup suckling against his belly. His fur is beautiful now that it is groomed, sleek and shining against the dim, yellowish glow of the oil lamps Dean uses to light his tent. When Castiel smells Dean, he lifts his head.

“Hi,” Dean says. He stays near the entrance of his tent. 

“Hello, Alpha.”

“Was the bath all right? Y’know, was Charlie nice?”

“I liked her very much.”

“Good. Good,” Dean says, “I just, uh. Wanted to know if you wanted me to stay someplace else tonight. If you wanted the tent for you and your pup.”

“Grace,” Castiel says.

“Grace?”

“I named her Grace, Alpha, if that name meets your approval.”

“A’course it does,” Dean says. He’s not sure whether or not it’s a good idea to keep telling Castiel that his shit’s up to him and Dean is just here to protect the pack, monitor their well-being, and fuck shit up if anyone tries to get in the way of that. He’s not here to bark orders or crack a whip on the people that he knows as his family. He grew up in this pack when his father was alpha and he took over the pack when his father passed away. This is his clan, not some kind of harem or brood of slaves.

“I think I would prefer if you slept in the tent with us,” Castiel says.

Dean didn’t expect that.

Castiel goes on, voice ever stilted and formal, “You are kind, Alpha. I hope it is not untoward of me to say that your scent makes me feel safe.”

Dean resists the urge to give Cas a scratch behind the ears. Instead, he rubs the back of his neck and says, “I’m glad I smell nice. You smell nice too. Uh, where do you want me to sleep? You and Grace can have the nest.”

“I think we would like it if you could stay in the nest with us,” Castiel says.

“You sure?” Dean steps a little closer and crouches down. He holds his hand out to where Grace has moved away from her father and onto her back, paws flopped over in the air. Dean holds his hand near her nose so that she can scent him. Grace nuzzles into his palm.

“I think she knows you are our alpha,” Castiel says, “I hope that decision is okay. I do want to be pack.”

Dean grins at this. He says, “Awesome. I want you to be pack too.” A bloom of warmth opens up in his gut. He can smell the pleased-alpha-scent rolling off of him.

“You accept me so easily,” says Castiel, “and I’m a stranger. I hope it is not too bold to say I find this pack strange, Alpha. Your omegas should speak to you with respect, but they speak to you like a friend.”

“They _are_ my friends,” Dean says, “I grew up with most of my omegas, before any of us presented. Seems shitty to treat them any different now. But, uh. Jess says you need to rest. We can talk pack later. I’m gonna, uh. Take these things off and shift. It’ll be easier to sleep if we’re both wolf.” Dean crosses the tent and ducks behind the hide from yesterday’s hunt where he hung it to dry. Perhaps he will use it to make Castiel some clothing. Or boots, maybe.

Dean sheds his leggings and tunic. With a grunt he shifts to his wolf and pads back out to the carefully arranged bed of furs. Careful to scent for any fear, Dean circles behind Castiel and edges up into the nest. When he plops down behind this strange omega, Dean realizes that Castiel is already asleep. That’s good. After the hell this wolf has been through, he deserves some shut-eye. Dean nestles up to Castiel, sets his head down on top of him, and closes his eyes.

It takes only moments for Castiel’s scent to lull Dean into following his lead.

**X**

Castiel wakes to the prickle of Grace pawing at his tummy while she nurses. It takes a long moment to come into where he is, in the tent of a foreign alpha that found him in the woods and didn’t hesitate to call for help and take him in. Sun beats against the hides that make up the tent’s walls, bleeding through and warming the nest. The scent of this tent makes Castiel want to stay forever. It’s oaky and rich, saturated with the distinct musk of alpha.

The alpha in question is not in the tent, however. Judging by the beat of the sun Castiel slept all the way into the late morning at least, though it could be as far as the early afternoon. He doesn’t remember the last time that he slept so soundly, without a single grain of fear that he would wake to one of his pack demanding that he present for them.

They wanted to imprison him. They might have burned him. Instead of going quietly Castiel ran faster than he’s ever run in his life. His paws are cut up and stinging, though the omega Charlie cleaned all his wounds and washed away the dirt from his human skin. She was kind, as Jessica was kind, but both omegas were also outspoken about Alpha. Loud. They have opinions. They are not like any omega Castiel has met before.

The tent flap opens. Castiel expects to see Alpha but instead sees his brother, the healer, who curiously is an alpha as well, but not _Alpha_. He wears his human skin and over it clothing like the clothing Alpha covered his human body with, things fashioned from animal skins and soft material that Castiel has never seen before.

“Good. You’re awake,” he says.

Castiel doesn’t know whether or not to speak in return to this alpha, so he lowers his eyes in deference and hopes that will do.

“I wanted to examine you, if that’s all right,” Sam says, “I could bring Jess in, if that would be better.”

Castiel shakes his head. He says, “You may proceed, um…brother of Alpha?”

Sam makes a face and replies, “You can just call me Sam.”

“But you are an alpha.”

“An alpha named Sam.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Sam, but doesn’t bother to speak. Castiel lets Sam press his palms against his black fur. Sam puts his ear against Castiel’s ribcage and listens, humming to himself. He checks the undersides of Castiel’s paws and does a sweep of the rest of his body, though Sam hesitates when he nears Castiel’s channel.

“I could have Jess examine your channel, if that would be better,” Sam offers, "It is necessary that we look, so that you heal well." His face looks nothing like the face of an alpha when he says these words.

Castiel doesn’t trust Sam, exactly, but he doesn’t smell like a threat and in human form if he mounted Castiel he wouldn’t hurt him too much in any case. Castiel just rolls further back onto his side and moves his tail. He feels exposed with Sam prodding around but he doesn’t do any of the things Castiel fears he might.

“You’re lucky,” says Sam, “You’ll heal within a handful of days. This was an oddly healthy birthing for a lone omega.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything back. Instead, when he replies to Sam, he asks, “Why hasn’t Alpha banished you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are a rival alpha, but he allows you to stay,” Castiel explains. He suspects he shouldn't speak to an alpha like this, but as Sam is not the alpha in power, it may not be as egregious a violation of respect as it would be to talk out of turn to Alpha. 

“I don’t have any interest in being alpha for the entire pack,” Sam says, “Dean’s way better at being pack alpha than I would be. Some days I barely know how to handle a mate and three pups. We’re not violent here, Castiel. Dean believes that pack should be home. Should be family.”

Castiel doesn’t have time to reply to that, because the tent flap opens again. This time, it’s a giant, tawny wolf that trots inside – Alpha. He marches over to Castiel and drops a plump, bloody rabbit in front of him, lolling smile on his face. Castiel glances from the rabbit to Sam and back to Alpha.

“It’s for you,” says Alpha.

At first Castiel just stares, but then he realizes that Alpha is serious. He asks, “But don’t you need to eat?” In his stone enclosure in his birth pack, Castiel ate what the other wolves did not want after they'd had their fill. He sucked marrow from bones and chewed on tough muscle, anything to abate the hunger that he always felt. 

“I eat after I feed my pack,” Alpha says, “You just gave birth to a pup, Cas. You need to eat more than I do right now.” Alpha nudges the rabbit forward with his nose and then sits, watching. Castiel still hesitates, but when it becomes evident that Alpha is going to wait for Castiel to eat, Castiel gives in and bites into the meat. It’s the first fresh meal he’s had since he presented caught by someone other than himself. He’s made a handful of kills in the past week out of necessity, but with Grace in him he wasn’t as fast as he would be normally. This rabbit was well-fed and likely quick. A tough catch.

Castiel doesn’t even realize that he’s dug into the meat with such enthusiasm until he looks back up to see Alpha and his brother staring at him, and blood drips from his muzzle onto his front paws.

Mortified, Castiel says, “I…ah. Thank you, Alpha. I’m sorry I didn’t leave any for you.”

Alpha cocks his head, ears twitching, and responds, “It was all for you. I can feed myself later.”

When Alpha and his brother leave the tent, Castiel thinks that they will leave him for the rest of the day, so he doesn’t vacillate over whether or not to sleep, just closes his eyes, draws his pup near, and hunkers down into the warmth and wonderful smell of Alpha’s nest. He wakes once to feed Grace and give her a quick tongue-bath, but it isn’t long before both he and the pup are out again. He suspects that Grace likes the smell of Alpha as much as he does, for she rubs her nose in the pelts below and scents and scents and scents. 

When Castiel wakes once more, it’s because a wet nose is nudging him. He blinks awake and sees Alpha over him. Castiel startles before he can help it.

“Supper,” Alpha says.

“I don’t understand.”

Alpha nudges something forward with a massive paw. It’s a fat, lovely river trout. A treat. Alpha repeats, “Supper.”

Alpha won’t leave until Castiel eats the trout. The meat is even better than the rabbit, all buttery and smooth. It’s the kind of luxury that would have been reserved solely for Alpha Metatron back in his home pack. But Metatron isn’t his alpha anymore. This alpha is. Or he very soon will be. Castiel isn’t sure how omegas are inducted into this pack, since this pack doesn’t share omegas. Perhaps Alpha will claim him publicly so that the pack knows to whom Castiel belongs. 

“How soon can I be pack?” Castiel asks, in spite of the fear bubbling up at the though of being watched by dozens of eyes while Alpha mounts him.

Alpha perks up at the question. He says, “As soon as you’d like to be.”

“There isn’t a ceremony?” asks Castiel.

“There is,” Alpha replies, “If you feel well enough, I can gather the pack together tomorrow night.”

**X**

The other omegas dress Castiel in soft clothes and sturdy boots. They drape a woven chain of wildflowers around Castiel’s neck, and decorate him with jewelry carved from animal bones and strung together with leather cord. Though Grace at two days old cannot shift from her wolf form, she too is ornamented with jewelry and flowers. She is the most beautiful wolf he has ever seen, though Castiel imagines they must both look as radiant as the old gods in their luxurious wear.

Castiel’s gait remains unsteady from being weak, but Charlie helps him from Alpha’s tent to the outside of the settlement. Alpha waits for them beside a massive fire pit. The smells of cooked food pop in the air, and many eyes follow Castiel and Grace as they walk toward Alpha and stand before him. Alpha's pack is strange, filled with wolves that all smell different, though they are called family. They are a patchwork of people, none like any other.

In his arms Alpha holds a painted clay bowl of chalky-white ashes churned into a paste with creek water. He smiles at Castiel. Alpha is decorated even more than Castiel and Grace. His tunic and leggings are embroidered in dyed threads in colors that Castiel has never seen before, and he wears a circlet of bone set with rough gemstones on his head.

“Castiel,” Alpha begins, when the pack has hushed, “Do you pledge your loyalty and the loyalty of your descendants to the Winchester pack?”

“I pledge our loyalty,” Castiel replies.

“On this is the twelfth summer of my reign as alpha of this pack, I welcome you to our family,” Alpha says. He dips his thumb into the ash mixture and paints it onto Castiel’s face, down the slope of his nose and underneath his eyes. He does the same to Grace where she lies in Castiel’s arms, leaving chalky-white markings like war paint on her black fur. She wiggles at the touch and whines in her sleep. Alpha smiles again.

Alpha kisses Castiel’s forehead and bends to do the same for Grace.

Castiel expects more ceremony, but instead, Alpha’s face breaks into a grin and he shouts, “Let’s eat!” The rest of the pack cheers.

A deep sense of flattery overcomes Castiel when he realizes the spread of food prepared is all in honor of his and Grace’s welcome to the pack. He freezes in place and doesn’t know what he should do until Alpha places his palm on the small of Castiel’s back and guides him to sit at the right-hand side of the head of the banquet.

“Your right side?” Castiel says, “Is this right, Alpha?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Alpha says, “You’re our new pack mate. This is in your honor, so you sit beside me. Both of you.”

On Alpha’s other side sits Sam, who smiles widely at Castiel. The smile makes him look like his brother.

That evening Castiel fills himself with more food than he ever remembers eating all at once, rabbit stew and a roasted bird crispy with spices, dates and honey-cakes and nuts cooked in sugar. Post-feast, the pack breaks into song, slapping drums and fingers flying over wooden flutes. Castiel reluctantly allows a flaxen-haired omega hold Grace, but only because Alpha asks for a dance.

Something strange happens when Castiel allows Alpha to guide him in dance steps he’s never taken before. He looks Alpha in the eye, something he hasn’t dared to do since before he presented. Alpha’s eyes are as green as surprise. Green as moss by the creek. Green as leaves on the trees. They are very, _very_ green.

Alpha chuckles breathily, “Cas, your eyes are fuckin’ _blue_.”

**X**

“Your heat’s gonna come soon.”

Castiel glances up from his book, a treat that Jess allowed him to borrow from the tent that she shares with Sam and their three frisky pups. The visitor isn’t Alpha. Alpha is on the hunt. He won’t be back for another few hours. Instead, his visitor is Sam. He is human again, with soft, slipper-like shoes on his massive feet that are decorated with dyed porcupine quills and glass beads purchased in one of the human cities.

“I know,” Castiel says, “Is that when Alpha takes me?”

“Not if you don’t want him to,” Sam says, “He won’t. He helps his omegas when they ask. Jess once had a heat so bad she asked for both of us. But he wouldn’t make anyone have him. That’s not his way.”

“What do I do if I don’t want Alpha? My heat…it won’t just –”

“I know,” says Sam, “We have a contact. He’s lone, technically, but he lives in a human city a few miles to the east. He – ah. He makes things that help omegas with their heats.”

“How is that possible?”

Sam gives Castiel a long-suffering look. He seems to give Castiel a lot of these looks, being that Castiel knows next to nothing outside of what his birth pack taught him. He is learning that his birth pack may not have taught him anything at all.

When Sam at last speaks, he first sighs. He says, “He makes fake knots, Cas.”

Castiel feels himself go bug-eyed. “You can do that?” he asks, “What does he make them out of? How does he make them?  Do they work the same?”

“They’re wood,” says Sam.

“ _Wood_?”

“He cuts them into, um. Shapes. Makes them smooth. Jess has a couple of them. I think it might be strange to share them, but Dean would buy one for you if you asked him. Every few months Dean and a couple others out of the pack travel to the city to trade our cloth and jewelry and furs, and they’ll bring back what we can’t make or find ourselves.”

**X**

“Alpha?”

Alpha blinks out of some kind of trance and casts Castiel a crooked smile. He bounces Grace on his knee and takes her tiny hand, making her wave. Two days ago, Castiel and Alpha woke to the sound of Grace screaming and crying – and shifting. She’s stayed human since. Her human hair is dark, too. Castiel finds himself secretly relieved that Grace seems to only look like him. He doesn’t want to know who in his birth pack sired her. Grace is his and his alone.

“What’s going on, Cas?”

“I,” he begins, and falters. This seemed so simple when he rehearsed it in his head. Now, looking Alpha in the eye and asking if he could come to the human city and buy a fake knot is the most difficult thing he can imagine doing.

“Go on,” Alpha says.

There’s just enough authority in his voice to compel Castiel to obey.

“I wondered if I might come to the city,” he says, “Sam says my heat will be soon. He says that we know a lone wolf in the human city that makes things to help omegas with their heats.”

“Oh, yeah,” says Alpha, “Is Grace all right to travel? She’s not even two months old.”

“I thought she could stay with Jess?” suggests Castiel. He trusts Jessica with Grace. She is still nursing her youngest pup and when Castiel confided in her what he intended to ask of Alpha, she said she could nurse Grace too while Castiel was in the city.

Assuming Alpha says yes.

“Jess would be great with Grace,” Alpha says, “We shift and go on paw to the city. Have you healed enough for that?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Alpha stands, tucking Grace against his chest, and snuffles around at Castiel. This level of scenting should be invasive. Castiel should be uncomfortable. But he isn’t. This is Alpha, and Alpha just wants to make sure that he’s okay.

“You’re strong,” Alpha tells him, “but if something goes wrong on the journey, you must tell me. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Alpha.”

Alpha crinkles his nose like he always does when Castiel calls him by his title and not by his first name as the rest of the pack does. He’s tried the name ‘Dean’ on his tongue while alone and it still doesn’t feel right to use, especially for such a noble alpha. Alpha is everything that he should be. He is strong and he is compassionate. Castiel doubts that a better alpha exists.

**X**

Castiel forgot how much he likes to run.

Sprinting through the wood, cutting through valleys and leaping over hills and human roads, side by side with Alpha and fellow pack – it makes Castiel feel alive. It makes him feel like a pup all over again, wrestling with his brothers outside of the housing at the compound. Of course, more than one of his brothers turned his back when Castiel presented, and more than one of his siblings disappeared entirely.

Castiel can smell when the pack nears the human city. The others must too, because everyone slows. One by one, they shift into their human bodies and pull the clothing packed in the leather bags looped around their necks.

“All right,” Alpha says, and claps his hands, “Jo and Ellen are on spice duty. Kevin, Charlie asked if you could find those paints for her that you did last time. Bobby, you know what to do. Me n’ Cas have an errand to run. We’ll meet back here at dawn tomorrow.”

Castiel walks side by side with Alpha and keeps close to him. The bouquet of smells makes his head ache, from the sour urine soaking the gaps between stone building with thatched roofs to the exotic perfumes rubbed into the skin of elegantly-dressed ladies.

“You’ll get used to it after a while,” Alpha says, “Humans got no idea how much they stink, though. I dunno how anybody lives here.”

Castiel must have slowed his pace, because Alpha stops and turns around to look at him.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, “Because we can go home if you need to.”

Come to think of it, Castiel does feel a little hot under his skin, but it could just be the sun beating down on him. He’s not used to clothing. Cloth and animal skins make him feel itchy sometimes. Still, he shakes his head and says, “I’m fine, and I wouldn’t want to leave without the rest of the pack.”

The lone wolf works out of a small, cramped workshop close to the heart of the city, where the smells grow ever-deeper. When Alpha pushes open the door to the knot-crafter – or whatever this man calls himself – the awful miasma of scents vanishes. Instead, the smell of wood shavings and alpha sweat envelop them.

And it’s familiar alpha sweat.

“Hey, Gabe,” Dean says.

Castiel goes stock still. Leaning back in an intricate wooden chair is his brother. His _brother._ Gabriel. Gabriel is a lone wolf. Gabriel lives in a human city. Gabriel is an _alpha_ and he makes fake knots for omegas? Confusion clouds over Castiel’s brain.

“What the hell are you doing with my brother?” demands Gabriel.

“Your _what_?”

“My brother, you imbecile,” Gabriel snaps. He shoves Alpha aside and pulls Castiel into him, sticking his nose right into Castiel’s neck. Gabriel’s alpha stink starts to strengthen as he investigates. Castiel tries not to feel strange with a nose in his neck, but even though he knows the nose belongs to his brother he still clams up. The tension sets Alpha off, and he yanks Gabriel away.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Alpha growls.

“He’s my brother, you asshat,” Gabriel snaps back.

“He’s my pack,” argues Alpha.

“STOP IT.”

Alpha and Gabriel both swing their heads to stare at Castiel. He can’t believe he just yelled at a couple of alphas, but both of them were being so – so – pigheaded.

“What did he do to you?” Gabriel asks, “You’ve had pups. I can smell it on you. Where are your pups? Are they Dean’s pups? I’ll fucking kill him if I have to.”

“You’re not going to kill Alpha,” Castiel says, “and my pup is at home with the pack. I have no godly idea who sired my pup and nor do I want to. She’s mine. That’s all that matters. Alpha helped me. He found me in his woods and instead of executing me he called for help and carried me on his back to the pack settlement after I birthed Grace.”

“Castiel,” Gabriel says, “You don’t have to call him ‘Alpha’, you know. Other packs aren’t like the one we came from. And maybe I should have taken you with me when I popped a knot and they gave me the boot, but you were just a pup and…” Gabriel sighs and doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Alpha says, “Whatever back-asswards pack you two came from kicks alphas out and makes omegas like some kind of public property? What the hell is that?”

“I didn’t know it wasn’t right,” Castiel says quietly.

Both Gabriel and Alpha swing around to frown at him.

“I’ve been away from my birth pack less than three months,” Castiel goes on. He grows bolder – dares to look both alphas in the eye as he speaks, “I was indoctrinated. I didn’t know it wasn’t right. All of it. I thought it was the truth because it was the only truth I ever heard. Omegas are available for the pack, and only one alpha can reign. I am learning that what I knew before may not be what is true, but it’s hard to leave it behind when it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.”

“He’s right,” Gabriel says. His shoulders slump, "When they forced me out, I hated everything about this world. Now I like it. I like humans. I like cities. I like what our pack told us we should never deign to enjoy. I felt guilty about enjoying my newfound freedom. That pack is poison."

Silence falls over them. Castiel edges closer to Alpha, but the first of them to break the tension is Gabriel. He never did like long periods of quiet. It always got him a sore bottom and bleeding knuckles as a pup. He grins wide and makes his tone lighthearted:

“So, in a wonderful twist of fate, the alpha of the Winchester pack brought my brother to my humble business to purchase a fake knot. So I guess this is your first heat on your own, then, Castiel?”

Alpha grunts something unintelligible and pushes past Gabriel, tugging Cas along with him to a space further back into the small shop.

Castiel can do little more than stand in place and stare. As promised, there are fake knots abound, all of varying shapes and sizes, in different woods with different scents. He’s more overwhelmed than anything at the sight because apparently this is what his brother does for a living? Gabriel carves penises all day. Even put plainly it’s hard to wrap his mind around it. Who in the gods’ names carves penises for a living?

“I guess maybe I can help you choose?” suggests Alpha. Castiel nods numbly. He has no basis for selecting fake knots, and the idea that he might be allowed to do so on his own grants him a sense of anxiety instead of freedom. 

“Well. Since you’re just starting out, something simpler would probably be a good go-to,” Alpha says. He hooks his hands behind his back and peruses the selection before plucking up a medium-sized knot in light-colored wood, with no strange ridges or bumps like some of the monstrosities have. He passes it to Castiel, who almost drops it on the floor in his nervousness.

“Then again,” Alpha continues, turning back to peruse, “I’m under the impression that a heat requires something, um. Heftier?”

As Alpha searches for a knot to fit this new criterion, Castiel’s itchiness hikes up to woozy, and oh _shit,_ there’s slick. He knows the moment that each of his alpha companions smell it because simultaneously they turn and stare holes into his head.

Castiel explains, “It’s early. My heat wasn’t due for another few days.” He’s mortified. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Alpha and his brother are looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His brother, for the gods’ sakes. The fever comes upon Castiel with all the warning of a dragon diving in for its prey. Castiel is a sheep in the claw of a dragon, burning up to a crisp before he splits apart in the beast’s belly.

Vaguely he hears Alpha’s voice and feels himself being moved, but he doesn’t register much else. There are noises and smells but mostly all Castiel feels is the roar of his own need and the slick that’s starting to make his thighs stick together, even with doeskin leggings between them. He clutches onto whichever alpha is holding onto him but he smells both Alpha and Gabriel so he can’t tell whose tunic he has a handful of.

This is not how Castiel wanted his first trip to the city to play out.

**X**

A sympathetic human innkeep allows Dean and Gabriel to haul Castiel into the safety of a locked room, though the innkeep herself cannot smell the incredible aroma of Castiel in heat. Gabriel wrinkles his nose in distaste at it, but Dean wants to bury his face into that scent and never, ever leave it.

Gabriel either reads minds or can smell alpha arousal on Dean, because he gives him a sharp look as soon as they deposit a writhing Castiel onto the bed in the finest room available. He folds his arms over his chest and says, “If you take advantage of him – ”

“I’m not going to do that,” Dean insists. He waves around the wooden knot that happened to be in his hand when Castiel went cross-eyed and says, “I’ll pay for this in a few hours. I think he needs it right now. Out.”

Gabriel glares, but Dean still herds him out of the room and closes the door. He doesn’t lock it – not yet, because if Castiel wants him to leave then Dean will need to be locked out of the room as well. For now, he strides to the bed and pets his hand through Castiel’s sweaty hair.

“Cas,” he says, “Cas, can you hear me?”

“Deeeeaaan,” Cas whines.

Oh, fuck.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Dean says, “Deep breaths, okay? I have a fake knot for you. Do you want me to stay here with you, or do you want me to leave you be? You have to lock the door behind me if you want me to leave.”

“No leaving,” Castiel says. He grips Dean’s tunic by the collar and pulls him down. Dean falls against the mattress with an _oof_. He maneuvers himself up onto his hands and knees and assesses the situation. The first waves of heat are always the worst. Cas is in his head but not as much in his body, which is sweaty and begging to be mated. Dean moves a lock of dark hair from where it sticks to Cas’s forehead.

“All right, I’ll stay,” Dean says, “Do you want me to help you with your clothes?”

Castiel shakes his head and starts tearing at his clothing himself. Dean has seen the guy naked before but he has never seen Castiel naked _and in heat_ , so that’s definitely causing some brain-to-cock malfunctions. He’s hard as a stone inside his leggings and there’s no masking it. No masking, maybe, but he can at least tell his downstairs to get a grip while he helps Cas. He runs his palms down Cas's arms and strokes his hair, tries to exude soothing and safety as best he can.

Dean makes himself sit on the edge of the bed. He rolls the fake knot toward Cas. He says, “Hey, that’s the toy. I know you’re out of it but it’ll help, I swear.”

“Dunno how to use it,” Castiel says, “Help.”

“Uh,” manages Dean. He looks Cas in the eye. Even fevered, the guy seems to understand what he’s asking for. He reaches for Dean’s hand, laces their fingers together, and squeezes his palm.

“S’okay,” Castiel slurs, “I know what I’m saying. Please.”

Dean gives a serious nod. For both their sakes, he’ll keep his own clothes on, at least for now. He rubs a gentle hand over Cas’s thigh and says, “C’mon, up on all fours. It’ll be easier that way.”

Cas shifts, but Dean still has to help prop him up. He orders Cas to stay there while he locks the door. He didn’t expect to lock the door with both of them still inside the room, but life’s full of little surprises, he supposes. Castiel seems to escape the bounds of Dean's expectations on a regular basis. He is timid at times, and other times he does not understand the most basic of pack protocol, but other times still he is sharp and clever with a quick-witted tongue and smiling eyes blue as will o' the wisp.

From the bed, Cas groans. He’s nothing like the fierce omega that Dean has come to know over the past couple of months, and that scares Dean a little. But Castiel trusts Dean to be at his side during the heat, to help him while he isn’t exactly himself and needs to be taken care of. Dean comes up behind him. For a moment, he stares. Cas’s legs tremble like aspens in the wind and he’s leaking shiny slick all over himself. The smell of that slick is fucking transcendental.

Dean plucks up the wooden knot from the mattress. It’s thick. It might be just what Cas needs for round one of his heat. Before he tests that theory, though, he rubs a hand over Cas’s shoulders and back. Cas is tense as hell for an omega in heat. Most omegas are pliable and happy by this point. Cas is…shaking.

So Dean sets the knot aside for now. He parts Cas’s cheeks with his palms and thumbs over his leaking hole. Fuck, it’s gorgeous. Below him, Castiel whimpers. Dean assures him, “I’m gonna take care of you. I promise. If you need me to stop, you gotta tell me, you hear?”

“Yes, Alpha,” whispers Cas. Dean tries to ignore the swoop of disappointment at being called ‘Alpha’ instead of ‘Dean’.

Dean slides a finger into Castiel and crooks it against his sweet spot. Cas fists the linens on the inn’s bed below him and whines, low and loud. Being that his body’s preparing him to take all the girth of a randy alpha, he’s pretty malleable and most definitely wet. Cas takes two fingers like it’s nothing, and three without a sound. It’s almost like Cas is being intentionally quiet.

“You’re not hurting, are you?” asks Dean.

Cas shakes his head.

Dean leans over to press a fleeting kiss to Cas’s sweat-slick shoulder blade and starts pressing his fingers in and out of him. It takes a little, but Cas starts pushing his hips back to meet the movement of Dean’s hand, rolling his hips up into the touch.

“You ready to try the fake knot?” Dean asks. He runs his free hand up and down Cas’s spine.

“Yes.”

Dean pulls his fingers from Castiel’s slick hole and takes the wooden knot in hand again. He wonders if he should have made off with the more slender model, like a fake-knot-for-beginners. This one is almost as big as an actual alpha’s cock. Not quite there, but an intimidating girth nonetheless. He positions it at Cas’s entrance and with a gentle hand on the small of Cas’s back, Dean breaches him with the blunt head of the knot.

Instead of growing tenser, Castiel throws his head back and pushes himself up from his elbows onto his palms. He swings around to stare at Dean with heated eyes, lips parted and damp. Castiel says, “That feels good.”

“It’s supposed to,” Dean tells him.

“More,” is all that Cas says in reply.

So Dean slides the thick toy all the way home inside his omega. (His omega? Did he just think that?) Castiel releases a long, pleasured groan, deep and guttural. It sounds more wolf than human, and Dean grows ever-harder under the deerskin covering his crotch. He still takes it slow. Cas deserves to have someone attentive and careful. As much as Dean would love to throw the knot across the room and mount Castiel, he knows it’s unwise at best. Instead, Dean thrusts the toy in and out of Castiel’s body. He works up a rhythm until Castiel begins to ride back onto the toy, hips rolling and jerking.

Dean bends over Castiel a pushes a kiss against the skin at back of his neck. While he maneuvers the wooden knot with his right hand, he reaches down and closes his left over Cas’s erection. He asks, a little breathless, “Is this okay?”

Cas just whines and nods. He seizes the brunt of the work from Dean, thrusting his body back and taking the toy deep inside, then jerking forward into Dean’s fist. He works himself up into quick, frenzied humping until finally Cas lets out a broken cry and collapses forward onto the mattress, come coating Dean’s hand. When Dean slides the wooden knot from Castiel's loose body, his omega makes a soft noise of complaint.

“Sorry,” Dean says, “I know that feels a little strange.”

“Empty,” Cas hoarsely says.

“Stay here,” Dean commands, “I’ll clean you up. I’ll be back. I promise.” He wonders if Cas’s birth tribe knew how important it is for an omega to have contact after a wave of their heat subsides. In all likelihood not, since they sound like damned barbarians.

Dean wipes his hand on the edge of the bed linens and ventures downstairs to ask the innkeep for warm water, soap, and clean rags. When he makes it back to the room, Cas is shivering.

“Hey, hey, sorry,” Dean says. He places his basin of warm water on the floor beside the bed and dunks a rag in. With steady hands he cleans the sweat, slick and come from Cas’s skin, until Cas almost smells normal again. The sweet, heady scent of his heat still emanates from him but at least he doesn’t smell like he just came out of a ten-way brothel orgy anymore.

“Don’t leave,” Castiel says.

“I’m not going to,” promises Dean. No, he slips underneath the bedcovers and wraps his arms around Cas’s middle. Cas nuzzles his nose into Dean’s neck and snuffles. It warms Dean’s heart from the outside in having Castiel tucked in his arms. Sure, he’s cuddled with more than one of his pack omegas before and felt happy and full, but it’s never been like this. This is like coming home for the first time in months. This is like a fresh meal after a long hunt.

This is _mate._

**X**

The dragon is gone.

There is no more heat, though there is warmth and there is asylum. When Castiel rolls to his other side, he rolls into the solid shape of a body. And then, when he scents that body, he smells Alpha. His memory is quick to return to him, to remind him what happened in Gabriel’s questionable shop and then later when he was carried to someplace with a soft bed.

This is the part of his heat that at his birth tribe he would feel humiliation and guilt. Now, Castiel isn’t sure. He opens his eyes and finds Alpha tangled together with him. Alpha snores as he sleeps, his mouth open and eyes closed. Castiel reaches up and strokes his knuckles against the curve of Alpha’s cheek. He’s beautiful, especially for an Alpha. Every alpha Castiel knew before his Alpha wasn’t right. Some of them were physically ugly and almost all of them were ugly on the inside, too.

Dean is beautiful outside and inside. He’s like the alpha princes in the fairytale books that Sam lets him borrow back at the settlement. Castiel may not be like the omegas in distress that those alpha princes save – he isn’t a simpering virgin, for one. He also isn’t an ethereally beautiful woman with long hair and a lovely singing voice.

Not that Castiel is unattractive. He thinks. His muscles are runner-lithe. His skin is sun-browned and his shoulders strong. Not all of those attributes are omega-typical beauty, but he’s content with what the gods have given him. Alpha seems to be equally content with Castiel's physique, now that he's filled out the skinniness left from being bound and ill-fed in his stone chamber at the compound.

“How are you feeling?”

Castiel blinks up, surprised. Alpha stares back at him, green eyes lit like lanterns and a boyish grin on his face.

“Better,” Castiel says. His face flushes at the thought of Alpha with the fake knot, watching Castiel lose his mind and fuck himself on it, but Alpha doesn’t seem fazed at all. Moreover, he didn’t pounce on Castiel and hurt him. He rubbed his back and kissed his shoulders and asked him about all the things that he wanted.

“You’re very kind,” Castiel settles on saying, when Alpha lifts an expectant brow.

“I’m what your birth alpha should have been,” Alpha says, but he leans forward, snuffles at Castiel’s hair, and presses a kiss to the center of his forehead. It’s tender and sweet and not anything at all like Metatron or the betas of Castiel's birth pack. Alpha strokes his fingers over the back of Castiel's neck before he goes on, “You need to eat before your heat comes again. Let me fetch something for you.”

Castiel decides not to protest when a rumble reminds him how well and truly empty his stomach is. It still feels odd when Alpha returns and makes him eat stew and fruit and drink water, running his fingers through Castiel’s hair throughout the entire duration. He feeds Castiel by hand and instructs him when to chew, green eyes intensely focused on Castiel and Castiel alone. When the food is gone, Castiel does feel better. The prickle of another wave of heat starts to jab at the back of his neck, though, like bone needles through the fabrics that Ellen weaves.

“Alpha,” he says, and grabs a fistful of Alpha’s tunic.

“Mm.”

“I want you here for the rest of my heat.”

Alpha perks up at that, but he doesn’t say anything other than a lilting, “Oh?”

“You smell nice,” explains Castiel, but maybe this explains nothing. He goes on, “You make me feel safe.”

Alpha’s lips slide into a lazy smile. He pets his fingers through Castiel’s hair again. He says, “I hope you don’t mind if I tell you that I think you smell real nice too.”

“Good,” Castiel says, “That means you won’t mind if I ask you to mount me, right?”

Alpha’s brows fly up on his forehead. He just murmurs, “Cas…”

“You don’t want to?” Castiel frowns.

“Of course I want to,” says Alpha. He dips down and scents along the column of Castiel’s throat, a low hum of pleasure growling someplace inside him. Out of instinct, Castiel leans up and wraps his arms around Alpha to pull him in closer, draw their scents together. He likes the way that they smell together, like they’re belong to be scented with one another. Like trees with soil, like oil with fire, like lightning and rain. 

“I’m worried about hurting you,” Alpha says, “I don’t want to hurt you like your birth pack hurt you.”

Castiel squints and cocks his head. He says, “You won’t, Alpha. I know that.”

Slowly and with tentative hands, Alpha extracts himself from Castiel’s arms and lays him on the bed. Alpha then moves to remove his own tunic and leggings, though it takes much longer than Castiel would like. He watches Alpha discard the tunic on the floor and step out of his doeskins. Castiel has seen Alpha briefly nude before, but the context alters everything. Alpha is lovely – beautiful, even. His skin isn’t as sun-browned as Castiel’s, and freckles dot his shoulders and his skin in odd places. His hair is streaked with gold from sunlight baking it. Castiel rakes his eyes over the feast before him, from Alpha’s strong shoulders to the softness of his stomach, down to the thatch of hair between his legs.

His cock is already engorged, ready to take Castiel. It’s large, as alpha cocks tend to be, though this one is larger than many that Castiel has seen before it. He wonders if he should be intimidated but decides that he won’t be, because he knows that Alpha will be careful with him no matter what. That’s how Alpha is.

Alpha crawls onto the bed over Castiel and boxes him in with his limbs. His arousal melts off of him in the most tantalizing scent that Castiel has ever had the pleasure of smelling.

Then Alpha does a curious thing: he turns his head and exposes his neck for Castiel to scent.

“Go on,” Alpha says.

Castiel still hesitates for a moment before he leans up on his elbows and presses his nose into Alpha’s skin. He smells wonderful. He smells like doeskin and soap and countless other good things.

“How’re you feeling?” asks Alpha.

“Good,” Castiel sighs, “Hot. Need you. Please.”

Alpha nuzzles the top of Castiel’s head and then ghosts his lips over his face. He leans down and with his breath hot against Castiel’s ear he says, “All right. Present for me.”

Castiel obeys, rolling onto his belly and wiggling up so that his face is in the sheets and his ass is in the air. He still feels open from earlier, and the slick is coming again, fast. He starts to pant as Alpha palms at the swell of his ass, parting him open further, making him feel emptier and more desperate.

“Alpha, please,” Castiel begs, “Please please please please.”

“Shh,” Alpha says.

Castiel stays quiet, but only until he feels Alpha’s tongue against his hole, lapping up slick and teasing at the rim. He lets out a startled whine before he pushes back into it. Alpha’s tongue breaches him and it’s the most incredible sensation, of a warm, lovely mouth pressing against and inside him. But it isn’t what Castiel needs. He needs to be filled up.

“Alpha,” he whimpers, but Alpha doesn’t respond.

“ _Dean_ ,” he tries.

That gets Alpha’s attention.

“Tell me what you need, Cas,” Alpha says. Dean says. Castiel can’t decide how to think of him now.

“I need you,” Castiel says, “I need you to mount me. I need you inside me.”

“You can have what you need,” Dean tells him. He grips Castiel’s waist with one hand. He must be using the other to guide himself home.

Dean’s cock touches him, rests against him for a moment, like Dean is giving him another chance to change his mind. Castiel isn’t going to change his mind. Not now. He thrusts backward, pushing his ass up further in the air in invitation.

Dean pushes into him. He’s gentle at first, sliding inside Castiel inch by inch. Then, Castiel groans. He fists the sheets and pushes himself back on Dean’s cock. He’s so big, and Castiel is so full, and it’s all kinds of wonderful, except that he needs more than just the fullness. He needs the friction. He needs the rhythm. He needs to be held down and fucked into this bed.

“Dean,” Castiel begs, “ _Dean_. Hard. Please.” He wishes his words could come out in complete sentences, but maybe that doesn’t matter, as long as Dean understands.

And Dean does understand. He pins Castiel’s wrists to the bed, pulls back, and thrusts back into him with the perfect amount of force. Castiel moans and tries to push himself up again for more, but with his wrists pinned there’s little he can do but trust Dean to do what needs to be done.

“Gods,” gasps Castiel, when Dean withdraws and fucks into him again, “More.”

Dean shoves into Castiel. Their skin slaps together, a loud, erotic beat. The cock inside him throbs and hits all the right notes, pounding again and again and again until Castiel turns into a puddle of himself, relaxed so wholly that he almost floats out of his own body. Dean slams against that place inside Castiel over and over. It barely registers that the pleasure has built so much that he’s close to the edge until his orgasm hits him with all the force of a hurricane, punching the breath out of him as his own cock erupts over the sheets.

Dean lets out a satisfied growl and goes _harder._

“You came untouched,” Dean says, “You’re so good for me, Cas. Look at you all spread out for me, taking alpha cock so good. So, so good. You need my knot, don’t you?”

Castiel nods frantically and rides up into each of Dean’s powerful thrusts, encouraging the swell he begins to feel catch at the rim of his hole, stretching him, filling him. Gods, he didn’t realize how much pleasure one could feel all at once, being pinned down and fucked into oblivion. He’s moved into a parallel land, he's been spirited away into the land of the fae, and just keeps flying as Dean’s knot grows inside him.

Dean’s hips stutter then, and he howls despite being in human form. Warm come fills Castiel. This part of heat sex before used to make him feel cold and scared, but now it makes him feel like a puzzle whose pieces at last have come together. He is meant for this, for being cradled and knotted by a beautiful alpha with green eyes and a big heart.

“Cas,” Dean gasps, his forehead falling against Castiel’s shoulder blade while another wave of orgasm sweeps through him and he rides it out inside. He says, “I think you’re my mate. I want you to be my mate. Would you take me as your mate?” He’s babbling.

Dean wants to mate him? Alpha wants to mate him? Mating is sacred. It is only for the most important of the pack. It is forever. In Castiel’s new pack, it means that Alpha will be dedicated solely to him, that no omega but Castiel will be allowed to bear Alpha’s pups.

“Yes,” Castiel says definitively, twisting around to look Dean in the eye so that he knows Castiel is serious and not too heat-addled to make such a decision. He tilts his neck, inviting, and says, “I want your bite.”

As Dean shudders from another punch of orgasm, he covers Castiel’s body with his own, scents out the perfect place for a mating bite, and sinks his teeth into Castiel’s skin.

The bite sends a surge of white-hot pleasure through Castiel’s body and he orgasms again with a piercing whine of need and fulfillment all at once. He transcends, someplace far from himself, someplace among the sky and clouds and sun and stars. It isn’t until Castiel feels the gentle lap of Dean’s tongue against his mating bite that he flies back to the earth. He flies back to his mate.

**X**

They can’t stay in the human city longer than promised. Cas left his pup at the settlement, and Dean’s pack needs him. So, after Dean sates another wave of heat, he instructs one exhausted omega to remain in his human form and hold onto Dean’s wolf – Cas has no choice but to ride Dean back to the packlands.

Gabriel elects to accompany them despite awkwardly having to scent his brother in heat for the entire journey.

When they arrive back, Castiel has a half a mind to order Dean to fuck him again, but the urge to hold his pup overpowers that. He bundles Grace in his arms and laughs when she makes a grab for the new mating bite on his neck. Castiel shifts her tiny body so that she can scent him instead. Perceptive little thing that she is, she smells Dean and blinks up from her daddy’s neck to narrow her eyes at Dean.

“I won’t hurt your father,” Dean tells her, “I promise.”

Grace merely looks suspicious. She does, however, love her alpha uncle the moment that she’s placed in his arms and scents his neck. Gabriel looks equal parts delighted and dismayed at having a niece: delighted because Grace captures the heart of any wolf that looks at her, dismayed because Gabriel and Castiel both know how she came to be.

May they never find out who sired her.

The pack holds a mating ceremony, much like the ceremony that welcomed Castiel and Grace to the pack to begin with. Castiel and Dean both wear only beaded doeskin leggings and sturdy boots, their chests bared and painted with colorful pigments purchased from the human city. Dean wears his bone and gemstone circlet and both of them are draped in bone baubles and late-summer flora.

Time passes.

**X**

Gabriel somehow manages to look even more condescending in wolf form than as a human. He’s on the smaller side for an alpha, but still big enough to be a threat if he wanted to be.

“That’s a terrible idea,” he says.

Dean, was he human at the moment, would frown. He just narrows his eyes instead and says, “How is that a terrible idea? You love Grace. Wouldn’t you like more pups to dote on?”

“Sure, but I ain’t being the one all bred up,” Gabriel replies, “Castiel is. And there are a lot of issues my brother probably doesn’t even know he has because of our birth pack. I only know this shit on a basic level, ‘cause once I presented alpha I got the boot and never really _saw_ any of our omegas. Who even knows if Castiel and I are kin by blood? Pups are taken from omegas moments after birth, and we never see those omegas again. I only know what I learned from breaking pack protocol and sneaking into places I shouldn’t sneak.”

Dean remains silent. He couldn’t imagine tearing a pup from the breast of any of his omegas, whether moments after birth or years into their existence. There are few things that make Dean more proud than watching one of the pack omegas nurse and scent their newborns, mates hunched nearby and ready to pounce on anyone that dares to threaten their beloved and their progenies.

“I want to ask you something,” Gabriel says.

Dean withdraws from his thoughts, licks at a dirty patch on his paw, and prompts, “Go on.”

“How old was Castiel when you found him?”

“Not sure. Probably someplace ‘round nineteen or twenty. Young.”

Gabriel’s wolf looks grim. He says, “The pack banished me before Castiel presented. He was maybe nine or ten at the time. I was fourteen. You think about it, omegas typically present a little earlier than alphas, but I’ll be generous. Say Castiel has his first heat at thirteen – our birth pack, they don’t sit around and wait. They would’ve fucked him the moment they smelled him. Every one of them. Metatron, our alpha, and then all the betas underneath him. Everybody got to have a turn. I didn’t mean to, but I saw it once. I don’t know who she was or if she’s even still alive, but one of the omegas went into heat and I got curious when I smelled it. She saw me and barked at me to hide, so I did. And I had to sit and watch from my hiding place while these sick-ass betas formed _a line_. She was crying and they didn’t stop. When I tried to go back the next day, the door was locked.”

A cold dread fills Dean from snout to paw at the mere notion that something so terrible could happen to Castiel, to his mate. He thinks of how no more than an hour ago Dean woke with Castiel and Grace curled up in their nest, how nice it smelled there, how warm Castiel’s fur was and how Grace whined when Dean started to lick her fur clean.

“Omegas – they’re…they’re just breeding vessels to our birth pack,” Gabriel says, “They’re supposed to make more betas and maybe a couple more omegas to help them with the job. No alphas, because Metatron’s the alpha and he doesn’t want any competition. He’s a crazed, power-hungry alpha and he just – I don’t know. For some reason, there are wolves that are devoted to him.”

Dean starts to pace the clearing. Any prey worth hunting nearby will be able to smell his distress by now. They’ll be running, and he’ll come back to his pack with jaws empty of deer to feed them. He lets out a soft whine.

“Yeah. Good thing you came across him first, right?” Gabriel says, “But my point: Assuming Castiel’s thirteen when he presents and nineteen when you find him, that’s six years in between that those fuckers have been using him as a pup oven. He’s had other pups. I can promise he has. I can also promise that they were ripped away from him and he doesn’t even know their names. You understand my concern here now, don’t you?”

Dean just whines again.

“Aw, shit, all right,” Gabriel says, nudging Dean’s fur with his wet nose, “Let’s get you back to your mate and I can take Sammy out for hunting.”

Dean doesn’t protest. He follows Gabriel back to the settlement like a lost puppy and when he finds Castiel and Grace at the bank of the creek washing clothes, he runs to them. Castiel, human, wraps his arms around Dean’s thick, furry neck and presses his face just under Dean’s jaw.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Grace shifts from her unwieldy human toddler body and into her wolf so that she can run to Dean and climb onto him. She settles her tiny wolf body on Dean’s massive back, close to his neck, close enough that he can smell that homey, milky smell of puppy. His puppy. But Dean has other puppies somewhere, because Castiel has other puppies somewhere.

Castiel should have all of his puppies.

“I want to get you your pups.”

Not _I want to give you more pups_ , because that implies that Dean will be donating to the cause via heat-sex.

A broken, torn expression rips through to Castiel’s face. He says, “I don’t even know what they look like.”

“You’d know them by smell.”

Dean and Castiel both turn to see Gabriel, human now and unabashedly nude.

“She knew me by smell,” Gabriel says. His eyes meet Dean’s. Perhaps Castiel doesn’t know the story of the omega that Gabriel saw. For Cas’s sake, Gabriel clarifies, “My omega mom. She knew me by smell. And I knew her. Your pups’ll know you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Castiel whispers.

“You were just little,” Gabriel says, “It scared me when I saw her and I didn’t want to scare you.”

Castiel looks from his brother to Dean, and then his eyes flick slightly over to where Grace is perched protectively on Dean’s back. She stares back, but only for a moment before she takes mouthful of Dean’s fur and begins to gnaw contentedly. Cas’s face softens at the sight of Grace – at a pup just being a pup.

“If we are going to find my pups,” Castiel says, “then I am coming.”

**X**

Tracking his birth pack is more difficult than it sounds.

Castiel’s birth pack is deep underground – figuratively – and completely independent of any other pack or civilization. They hunt and make their own food, sew their own clothing, even make their own tools and weapons. It isn’t like the Winchester pack, where they trade with neighboring packs from the borderlands, and even with humans in their bustling marketplaces.

The first trace of the pack that they find is Balthazar.

He’s lone.

But he isn’t an alpha, nor is he omega.

Balthazar simply left.

He lives in neutral territory between two packs: the Campbells (the birth pack of Dean’s mother, he’s told) and the Romans. Neutral forest is strange, void of many smells that fill up forests within packlands. The rabbits are fatter and more plentiful. The birds are bolder.

Castiel, unwilling to leave Grace for this venture, has her safely in his mouth as he trots alongside Dean with Sam, Jess, Gabriel and several other volunteer pack members. Castiel sets Grace down on the ground only when a wolf-scent tickles his nose. He sneezes. Grace growls.

“Hush,” Castiel says, at the same time that Dean asks, “Did you just growl at your father?”

Grace pouts, but walks with tail swinging toward the scent of the wolf. The smell leads them to a tiny stone cottage with a thick thatched roof. Outside in the front is a garden. Based on smell Castiel identifies several herbs and a handful of vegetables. Odd fare for a wolf, though less odd when eaten in human form. Their human bodies digest vegetables better than their wolves.

Before any of the pack approaches the cottage, a gold wolf bursts from the door, snarling. He only stops when Grace whimpers and scampers to hide behind Dean’s legs. Castiel leans down and gives her a reassuring lick. He likes that she feels safe with their alpha. Castiel’s mate.

“Balthazar,” Gabriel greets. He pushes through the clutch of wolves to the forefront, “I’m glad we found you.”

Surprise is on the air when Balthazar sits in front of his home. He says, “Gabriel?”

“And Castiel,” Gabriel says, and tilts his head behind him.

At that, Balthazar goes bug-eyed. He says, “Castiel? I thought that they killed you.”

“They did their best,” Castiel says tiredly. He nudges Dean aside and takes Grace in his jaws again, dropping her in front of Balthazar. Castiel urges her forward with a push of his nose to her rear and announces, “This is my pup, Grace. I am hoping to collect the rest of my pups and take them home with me to my pack. They will be safe there.”

Balthazar and Grace circle one another for a moment before leaning in to scent each other’s fur. Whatever Grace smells, she must like it, because she nuzzles into Balthazar’s leg. Balthazar looks at Castiel and Dean for help, wide-eyed.

“Grace,” Castiel says. She licks Balthazar’s paw and bounds back to Castiel. He goes on, “Balthazar, it has been years since I have been to the compound, and years still that I was allowed to hear the politics of the pack. I need to know what it will take to get my pups home.”

Balthazar snorts and says, “There’s no easy method; I can tell you that much.”

“What can you tell us?” asks Dean. Every inch of him exudes alpha, fierceness rolling off of him in waves. He takes a protective step forward in front of Castiel and Grace. If it wasn’t already obvious that Dean and Cas are mated, it is now.

Balthazar studies them carefully. He replies, but directs his words to Castiel, “Your alpha will have to challenge Metatron. There is no way to take the pups alone and nothing else. You know Metatron will not negotiate. The only thing that he will respect is his own defeat. Even then, I’m not certain what he might do. You may have to execute him.”

“But then Dean would have to take on the entire pack,” Castiel says. This time, it’s his turn to be protective. He comes forward, urging both Dean and Grace behind him with a scratch of his paw through the forest topsoil.

“Yes,” Balthazar says, “He would.”

“I’ll do it,” Dean states.

The pack volunteers, Castiel and Grace, and Balthazar all gape.

Jo shoves her way to the front of the wolves and protests, “You could be killed, Dean!”

“We need to get Cas’s pups home. They’re not safe there. They deserve to live with a father that loves them and they deserve to live among a pack to be proud of. We are a good pack. We make a good home for little ones.”

As if to prove her alpha father wrong, Grace wanders to Balthazar and sinks her teeth into his leg.

“ _Ow_ ,” Balthazar complains, “A pack to be proud of, you say?”

“To be fair,” Gabriel says, “she was raised by wolves.”

Balthazar sinks his wolf body to the ground and hides his muzzle in his paws. Were he human, he’d probably groan. Instead, he makes a long whining noise and says, “I can help bring you to the compound. It’s not…not far. I keep watch over them. I know that’s – strange, to say the least, being that we aren’t pack anymore, but I still worry.”

Despite the location of Castiel’s birth pack being nearby, Dean first leads them all in a hunt so they will not confront Metatron on empty bellies. It warms Castiel from his core to his claws to watch Dean teach Grace to stalk and pounce on rabbits. For the most part, Grace is too clumsy to catch a rabbit on her own, but Dean helps box in a particularly fat one. Grace manages to bite the rabbit, but Dean still has to discreetly make the kill when Grace turns her back to bound to Castiel and ask, “Papa, you see what I do?”

“I did see,” Castiel tells her, “I am very proud. You are an excellent hunter, pup.” Grace preens. From behind her, Dean gives him a smile, tongue lolling out.

Balthazar hesitates to eat with them, but joins when Gabriel insists upon sharing his own rabbit. The mood is far more relaxed than it should be, knowing that Dean intends to challenge a rival alpha for control of Castiel’s birth pack. Still, he has faith. Dean is good. He is strong. He is an excellent alpha and a warrior and a hunter, far greater than Metatron could ever hope to be.

But Metatron is strong in his own right – he couldn’t keep the pack without that strength. He is cunning. While Dean is clever, he is not cunning. It isn’t in his nature.

Scenting his mate’s concern, Dean gives him a few affectionate licks and nuzzles into Cas’s fur. He says, “You’ll have your pups, Cas. Promise. I swear to you.”

Dean is not a wolf to go back on his promises.

**X**

The familiar aromas of Castiel’s birth packlands make him want to vomit. Even in his wolf body, a body that makes him feel strong and fierce, Castiel shakes. He can’t help but remember his first heat and how frightened he was. The moment that they scented him, Castiel got dragged from his nest with the other pups and down a set of stairs to windowless, dungeon-like room. They roped him down to the stone floor and one by one the pack had him, even as he cried and whimpered and begged them to be done.

A month later, Castiel’s belly started to swell with his first pup.

He doesn’t realize that the other wolves are all staring at him until Dean nudges his damp nose into Castiel’s neck, giving him a single, sad lick in hopes of reassuring him.

Balthazar and Gabriel look grim. Gabriel never waited with other wolves to fuck an omega that couldn’t move, but Balthazar did. He presented beta – a far easier presentation than alpha or omega, with nothing to indicate a difference but a shift in smell. Balthazar obeyed pack protocol as any excellent beta would do. He participated in hunts. He lent a watchful eye to pups wrestling outside of the compound. He stood sentry at the door to the room that held the pups’ nest.

Balthazar contributed his seed to the creation of the pack progenies.

Though Balthazar was a pup older than Castiel by five years at least, they grew together. They played together, wrestled in the dirt and huddled in the nest together.

He was one of the last betas to have Castiel during his first heat. It’s tradition: the oldest betas of the pack take the omegas first so that their seed might have the first chance to catch and the bloodline continues. By the time that Balthazar padded to Castiel where he lay bound and whimpering on the floor, Castiel was too wrung out to smell as scared as he did before.

Instead, Balthazar smelled scared. He gave Castiel a tentative lick and, quietly enough so that only the two of them could hear, Balthazar apologized over and over again and promised that he would be gentle. He was true to his word.

When Castiel escaped, Balthazar remained a part of the pack.

Castiel wonders what made Balthazar desert.

All at once, Castiel is awash with fury. Balthazar never wanted to take Castiel, never wanted to put pups in the belly of a wolf hardly more than a pup himself. Balthazar was scared, too. Castiel never wants another pup to suffer the traditions of the tribe. If today there is no victory, then no matter their presentation, the pups will suffer somehow. He _needs_ to get to his pups. Castiel _needs_ to keep them safe. In the Winchester pack, Castiel is sure no harm will come to his little ones.

Castiel growls.

Dean backs off, but Grace huddles behind Castiel’s legs, trembling. Castiel tries to relax if only for her benefit. Grace has never smelled something so strong from him, he knows.

“We will get those pups,” Castiel says.

Dean just nods.

The compound becomes visible over the crest of the next hill, its stone walls and flat, wooden roofs standing squat but ominous against the light of the waning sun. The clouds in the sky flush blood red. Castiel’s fury deepens, growing ever-brighter the closer they come to the compound. By now, someone will have scented them.

By now, someone knows that they are here.

It is Raphael that arrives to stop them. Her chocolate-brown fur gleams in the evening light.

“You are trespassing,” she says, “Leave this land, or we will be forced to attack.”

Dean stalks to the head of the group and announces, “I am here to challenge your alpha. He is unworthy of his pack and he will pay for what he has done to it.”

Raphael’s surprise permeates the air around them. The volunteers spread out, snarling and snapping their jaws. The scent of their intent is clear now. They are not mere rogue wolves that have wandered past pack lines. At their threatening stink, Raphael lifts her head and howls at the sky.

From the compound, wolves stream. Dean doesn’t even need to give the order – his pack darts out to meet the wolves of Castiel’s birth pack, snouts pulled back in sneering, angry growls. Castiel plucks Grace up in his mouth and runs quick as lightning, through familiar wolves too stunned by the sight and smell of him to lead a pursuit.

Castiel runs for the hut where the pups are kept and throws his shoulder against its door, wood splintering under his strength. A chorus of frightened whines and whimpers meets him when he bursts inside. The milky scent of pups envelops him. This is where Castiel grew. This is where he slept. This is the nest he was torn from when slick ran between his legs and his skin felt too heavy and hot on his body.

This is not all that he smells. He smells something else. He smells several other somethings. He smells blood that belongs to him.

“Papa,” he hears, and from the terrified huddle of pups where they tangle with each other in both wolf and human skins, a black wolf emerges. It is a boy, a little boy, and the boy belongs to him. This boy baked in Castiel’s belly and was ripped from his arms. Castiel lets Grace drop.

Grace stalks several paces ahead and growls.

“Sister,” says the boy-wolf, “What is my sister’s name?”

Grace ceases her growling but it is Castiel that answers, “Her name is Grace.”

“Grace,” the little wolf says, tasting the name on his tongue, “I am Samandriel.”

Castiel could cry. This little wolf, this Samandriel, he is pack. He is family.

“It’s all right,” Samandriel says to the pups shaking behind him, “This is my omega papa. And Inias’s papa. And Hael and Muriel and Nathaniel.”

Some of the pups break from the huddle and come forward. Of them, Samandriel is the eldest. Castiel’s first pup, the one that he birthed when he was just thirteen years old. When Samandriel rushes to him so do the others, eagerly pressing tiny noses into his fur. Of them only one is in her human form, a small girl no more than five with dark hair woven into plaits on her shoulders. The rest are wolves, little black wolves, their fur just like Castiel’s. Castiel lowers his head so that they can scent him properly and with enthusiasm they do, sticking noses against his throat.

Grace sniffs at her siblings. Though she is young she understands. She licks the pup wearing her human skin.

“Puppy,” says the human-pup.

“That is your sister,” Castiel says, voice soft.

“Sister,” she echoes.

The idyllic moment does not last. The cup of Castiel’s heart is full and falls with a clatter inside him when he smells acrid, ugly alpha. It isn’t his alpha. It isn’t Sam. It isn’t Gabriel.

It is Metatron. He is a great, fat wolf, his fur drab and speckled brown and gray.

“You thought you could steal the pups, did you?” he asks. His voice is like rusted hinges squealing open, like the cry of a dying animal, like every terrible sound that ever was.

“They are _mine_ ,” Castiel says. A low growl rips out of his throat, a growl not purposeful but built entirely on instinct. The shift in his scent is so strong and his reaction so visceral that it sends Grace hurdling toward Metatron. She launches her tiny body at him and bites down on his leg, hard. Metatron snarls and shakes her off, casting her across the room.

Grace whimpers when she lands, but the other pups – the pups that Castiel did not birth – run to her. Grace’s siblings run in a different direction. They run at Metatron, all of them, growling and yipping and biting. Metatron throws his weight around, tries to shake them from him.

Castiel’s building rage bursts into flame. He growls louder than he ever has before and he attacks. When he left this pack he was malnourished, skinny and weak and pregnant, but now, he is strong. He hunts with his mate. He eats well. He stands tall. He survives. He will not allow some sorry excuse for a _piece of shit_ hurt his pups and get away with it. He will hurt _no one_ ever again.

Though Castiel has the advantage of size and of being underestimated, Metatron is a font of alpha strength. When Castiel bites Metatron, Metatron flings Castiel across the chamber. His body slams down against the stone floor with a crack. Castiel’s ribs scream from the strike. He ignores them. His own ribs come second to his pups. He will do anything to protect his pups.

Metatron throws him onto the ground again. This time, when Castiel stands, he is bleeding. It drips onto the floor, though Castiel isn’t sure of its source. He is only certain that if any more blood must be spilled, it will not be his. It will not be the blood of his pups. It will be Metatron’s blood, and Castiel will let the blood flow so freely that it will stain the spaces between the stones in the floor. He strikes, and strikes again, but he’s too slow.

Metatron is going for his neck.

Until an enormous wolf pummels Metatron and Metatron goes down.

“You coward,” spits Dean, “I challenge you, and you attack my mate and a bunch of pups. You’re vile.”

Castiel gathers the pups and herds them out of the way as Dean slams his body against Metatron’s. Castiel turns his face away so that he doesn’t have to watch. Hearing the snarling and gnashing of teeth is enough for him as he runs back to check each of the pups, pups of his blood or otherwise. Grace is bruised and scratched and it hurts Cas to see her like this, but resilient thing that she is, she leaps to her feet and nuzzles right into Castiel’s chest.

“Your mate is a whore.”

Castiel turns to the fight just in time to hear these words from Metatron’s mouth. He winces, shrinks into himself, as his former alpha goes on, “You see how many pups he’s birthed? He’s worthless. You could do far better, _Alpha_.” Metatron says ‘Alpha’ like he’s tasted something foul on his tongue. It isn’t said with the respect that Dean deserves. It’s a mockery.

Castiel says, “How dare you disrespect Dean! He’s a better alpha than you could ever hope you be. He’s kind. He cares for his pack. He leads them and guides them as alphas are supposed to do while you destroy the lives of those you are meant to protect. You are disgusting.”

Dean lashes out at Metatron. His nails make contact with skin, rip back fur and blood begins to flow. Castiel stops being able to tell whose blood and fur is flying. He only knows to hope when Metatron collapses on his side and Dean keeps growling, low and menacing.

“I hear your pack won’t respect anything less than execution,” Dean says. He turns his bloodied muzzle to Cas and says, “Cas, get the pups out of here. They don’t need to see this.”

Castiel ushers them all out of the chamber and prays that whatever is happening on compound grounds is safe enough to lead a small army of pups into.

They find bloody, spitting wolves. Some have collapsed, others circle each other, others still lash out with claw and tooth. Castiel gathers the children close. He shields Grace’s eyes with his tail. She’s too young to see what true terror and violence looks like, too young to know what kind of place she comes from. She is used to a warm tent and well-lived-in nest that she shares with her fathers, one of which is the greatest alpha in the land. She knows no more than safety and love, as Castiel always wanted for every one of his pups. Now they may have a chance.

Dean emerges from the pups’ quarters drenched in blood. He howls, and the wolves still.

“Your alpha is dead,” he calls, “You have two choices before you. You may come with me, follow me to my packlands, and become part of our pack. Or, you may stay here and build a new pack. We are taking the pups to my packlands. They will be safe there. Far safer than here.”

The pack breaks into chaos. With no alpha to take Metatron’s place, they have no avenue to rebuild a traditional pack. Castiel busies himself by cleaning and tending to the pups, but only until he smells something strange, something good – it isn’t good the way that Dean smells good. It’s a smell that’s deep in his bones, set in his brain.

Alongside Gabriel, a thin, black wolf hobbles along on wobbly paws. She isn’t old.

She’s an omega.

Castiel remembers how much his legs burned when he ran away, how they were in such disuse that he thought they might break beneath him. He couldn’t travel fast, though he forced himself to in those first miles, made himself get as far away as possible before collapsing on a bed of dried leaves in an unfamiliar forest.

This omega has been tied down much longer. Castiel knows not only because of her middle-age…but because she is his mother.

“Castiel,” Gabriel says, “This is our mother. Her name is Hannah.”

Though Hannah looks exhausted she still assesses Castiel with serious eyes, and looks to the pups surrounding him. It takes only one sniff to know that he is an omega too. She says, “You are strong.”

“I have a good pack,” Castiel answers, “I…I – it would be wonderful if you would come with us to our packlands. They are safe. Our alpha is generous and good.”

Hannah mulls this over. She asks, “How are the rabbits in your packlands?”

**X**

By the time that Dean returns with the new pack members in tow, the sun that set on Castiel’s birth pack rises over his settlement. Timid wolves follow after him, all betas. The omegas and pups went ahead, guided home by Sam, Jo and Gabriel. Balthazar returned to his strange home alone in the woods.

Dean organizes for new pack to temporarily stay in the tents of the old. No one seems to mind, which makes Dean happy. He has a generous, loving pack. He likes that his pack welcomes with open arms. A streak of alpha pride hits him like a thunderbolt. As a teenager, Dean doubted his ability to handle the pack. He was afraid of living in the shadow of his father. But now, he thinks he might be doing all right. Even if he isn’t the perfect alpha, his pack’s got the right idea.

When Dean pushes aside the flap to his tent, he expects to find Cas and his pups. Instead, he finds Cas and every single pup in the settlement, both old pack and new. At the arrival of Dean’s scent, Cas cracks open one human eye. He mutters, “They truly wanted to all be together. I have trouble saying no to one pup let alone two dozen.”

Dean shifts to human and laughs quietly. He offers Castiel his hand and pulls him out of the pile of sleeping pups. They don’t speak, just leave the tent, Castiel clothed in doeskin and a cotton tunic embroidered by Sam (a mating present), and Dean in nothing but his freckled skin. Castiel slips his arm around Dean’s naked waist, pulling him in close. If his hand slips a little to palm at his alpha’s ass, no one has to be the wiser.

They laugh, louder now that they are far enough away from the settlement. Cas gives Dean another squeeze before he takes off running and Dean comes after him. They aren’t nearly as fast or graceful as humans, and when Dean makes a grab for Castiel they both topple over, rolling in the grass like puppies.

Dean pins Cas to the grass, straddles him. He can feel himself grow harder.

“Let’s take this off,” Dean says, tugging at the tunic.

“That’s my favorite one,” protests Castiel.

“I’m setting it aside,” Dean assures him, “We don’t want to soil it, do we?”

Castiel chuckles and lets Dean slide the cotton up over his head. He folds it into a square because he knows that Castiel loves the mating tunic, and gently sets it aside. Below him, Castiel looks like sin, his hands thrown back in the grass, eyes heavy-lidded with pupils blown wide. Already he’s flushed from lust. When Dean rolls his hips forward, he can feel Cas’s cock harden inside his leggings. The smell of slick lends sweetness to the air, a tang beyond the grass and soil and wildflowers.

The smell of _Cas_ is the most wonderful. Knowing that Cas belongs to him and that he belongs to Cas makes Dean happy beyond reason. His handsome, lovely-smelling omega is everything.

“Dean,” Cas says. He rubs his palm over Dean’s arm. His voice is serious. Dean sits still and tries not to look down, because if he does he’ll remember that his cock is harder than ever and if Castiel needs him to be serious his cock can’t be that hard. Cas takes Dean’s hands in his and kisses his fingers. He says, “Thank you for what you did today.”

“I would do it a hundred times if I had to,” Dean says, and strokes his fingers through Cas’s wayward hair. He would, too. He would fight dragons. He would slay a thousand alphas. He would kill kings. He would do anything for his mate.

“Come here,” Cas says. He pulls Dean down into a heated, tender kiss. It is one of the most intense kisses Dean has ever had, a blessing from the gods in the form to Cas’s tongue stroking along his own. With gentle, sure hands, Cas guides Dean into a different position, guides him to lie on his back in the soft grass. Castiel stands only long enough to discard his leggings, casting them to the left of them to lay bunched with the folded tunic. He climbs on top of Dean and pins Dean’s wrists down.

At one time, Dean would have felt apprehensive about limited mobility, even knowing that he could likely get the upper hand if he needed to with his alpha strength taken into consideration. He likes this, though. He can trust Castiel. He knows that there exists no universe in which Cas would hurt him. Cas is his mate, his only.

When Castiel reaches behind himself and presses fingers into his hole, Dean groans.

He groans more when Cas pulls Dean’s legs apart and touches his entrance with those slick-coated fingers. Having Cas inside him once was strange. He didn’t imagine that he would like being fucked so much, but he does, and Cas is sweet and kind when Dean needs it and rough and growly when he needs that, too.

Today is a sweet and kind day. Cas fingers Dean open, presses down on the wonderful spot inside him that makes him see stars.

“Cas,” Dean hoarsely says.

Cas leans down to apply a soft kiss to Dean’s chapped lips. He asks, “Yes?”

“C’n’I ride you?”

There’s another kiss, this one to the center of Dean’s forehead, and Cas’s voice telling him, “Of course.”

Dean eases Cas onto his back again. He’s glad that Cas is strong. With a smaller mate he might worry about crushing them underneath his weight. Cas just welcomes him, pressing his cock up in invitation. Dean kisses a spot behind Castiel’s ear and says, “Patient.”

With a hand grasping Cas’s cock at the base, Dean leans back and sinks onto him inch by inch. A shudder wracks his body once he is fully seated, the entire length of his mate inside him. Cas may not have a knot, but his girth is nothing to turn one’s nose at. Being like this always makes Dean think of how strong omegas must be to take knots inside them, to carry the weight of alphas and betas, to be filled up. It didn’t occur to him just how remarkable such a thing is until the first time that he and Cas had sex like this, with Dean doing the taking and Cas doing the giving.

With a long exhale, Dean begins to ride back on Cas’s cock, rocking his body at the perfect angle for the magic spot inside him to light up like a bonfire.

And then Cas sits up. He wraps his arms around Dean and starts to thrust up, takes the control. After the events of the day nothing feels better than to relax into Cas’s arms like a ragdoll and feel anything that Castiel wants Dean to feel. Between them, Dean’s knot begins to swell. Cas presses his palm against the engorged skin, massages, and Dean gasps. He reaches his climax with a loud, needy whine and come starts to gush from him, making his and Castiel’s stomachs stick together.

Spent, Dean goes even limper in Cas’s grip, so Cas puts Dean back down in the grass and thrusts into him, considerate but firm, decisive in each movement of his body until he begins to quake. When Cas comes, Dean wraps his legs around him and holds them together, Cas inside him. Breathy little mewls and whimpers break from Cas’s lips, and he flops onto Dean’s sweat-damp chest, wholly sated.

Nose to nose, Dean kisses Cas and says, “I love you.”

Cas’s eyes open for that, though barely. He nuzzles into Dean’s gingery stubble and replies, “I love you back.”

Later, when they shift into wolves and walk side by side back to the settlement, Dean and Castiel are greeted by an army of happy pups eager to climb on such a large alpha. They appreciate the size of Castiel’s wolf, too, but most of the pups go to Cas just to stick their noses in his fur and snuggle up to him.

Dean falls asleep after being awake for more than two sunrises and a sunset. He falls asleep warm.  


End file.
